


Without Access, Favor, or Discretion

by 7iris



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dick Pics, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Is this Habs goaltender Carey Price’s dick?</em> the Deadspin headline screams, and PK snorts coffee out his nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Access, Favor, or Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted (belatedly) from tumblr. Written for this NSFW [picture prompt](http://critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com/post/93123741820/no-subject).

_Is this Habs goaltender Carey Price’s dick?_ the Deadspin headline screams, and PK snorts coffee out his nose.

That's what he gets for trying to multitask in the morning.

He doesn't for a second believe it's really Carey, which is why he clicks through. He wants to see how badly they're misrepresenting Carey's dick.

It's actually a nice picture, not skeevy or crappy quality. Whoever it is is younger than Carey, doesn't have Carey's lean, rangy muscle. He's on his back, thighs spread wide, black boxers pull down to show of his long, hard, uncut cock arcing back against his bare stomach. PK figures Carey would go for smoldering intensity if he ever sent a dick pic, and this one is almost playful.

PK shakes his head at what passes for journalism in the pre-season, and finishes getting ready to leave for the rink.

He's planning on giving Carey so much shit for this, but when Carey finally shows up -- after what was probably the world's most awkward conversation with management -- he looks so miserable that PK can't bring himself to do it.

There's a round of good-natured chirping from the rest of the guys. Carey musters up some half-hearted pissiness, but under it he looks almost sick, and the guys let it drop.

Carey's off his game when they get on the ice. They light him up during the drills, to the point where PK starts pulling his slap shot, and he's pretty sure Chucky is missing the net on purpose.

PK doesn't like it. After practice, he stops at Carey's stall.

"Hey," he says.

Carey doesn't look up from unlacing his skates. "Are you going to ask if it really is me?"

"Nah, man, it's none of my business," PK says easily. Some of the rigidness goes out of Carey's shoulders. "I was going to ask if you want a ride home."

Carey does looks up then, face unreadable.

"I've got tinted windows," PK says in his most tempting voice.

Carey exhales slowly. "Yeah, okay."

The fans waiting by the parking lot exit look rowdier than usual, and PK's pretty sure he sees a reporter or two in there, too. He doesn't stop. Carey slumps down in the seat and rubs his forehead like his head hurts.

PK launches into a long update about his nephews, because they're awesome and who wouldn't feel better after hearing about them?

He stops for breath at a red light, and into the quiet Carey says, "It was me. My picture, I mean."

PK does a double-take. "Whoa, shit, really?" 

Carey nods stiffly.

"Wow, that's -- you are like the last person on the team I would have expected to have a dick pic leak. Like, after Therrien even."

Carey makes a little choked noise, almost a laugh. "Please don't make me think about Therrien's dick pics."

PK pulls an appalled face at the windshield. "Sorry. About everything, that sucks, man."

Carey scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah." 

"What are you telling the media?"

"No comment," Carey says. 

"Got it," PK says. He shoots Carey another quick, sidelong look. "Do you -- what happened?"

"I guess my ex leaked it," Carey says. "I don't know why. It's an old picture, I was...nineteen? Before I even got called up to Hamilton."

"What the hell?" PK says. "I'm gonna, okay, no, I'm gonna get my sisters to kick her ass. I know they'll have to get in line behind Kayla, but--"

"His ass," Carey says.

PK snaps his mouth shut and stares at Carey. Carey doesn't look at him.

"Oh," PK manages finally. "Well, they'll kick his ass, too. They'll have to get in line behind me and Kayla, though."

The corner of Carey's mouth twitches.

"I didn't know you liked guys, too," PK says. He means _in addition to girls_ , and he means _like me_.

"He was the last guy I dated. Or hooked-up with. The last person I sent pictures like that to." Carey closes his eyes for a second. "I was young and dumb, but I was scared about what would happen if I tried that in the NHL."

PK almost misses the turn for Carey's house. They pull into the driveway and PK punches in the gate code. No one is hanging around the house, at least.

"I've been careful this whole time, and one stupid mistake from eight years ago comes back to bite me in the ass." Carey looks exhausted, beaten down, and PK _hates_ it.

He leans over, seatbelt and all, to throw his arm around Carey's shoulder, drag him into an awkward, uncomfortable hug. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "This sucks. But you know I got your back. The whole team, we're behind you."

Carey leans into PK for just a moment, then he pulls away, getting out of the car. "I know," he says. "Thanks."

PK yells through the open door, "At least it was a hot picture! Good job!"

He gives Carey a thumbs up, and Carey shakes his head, slams the door. He's smiling though, tiny and genuine, and PK feels a little better.

*

(It was a hot picture. PK doesn't let himself go back and look at it, now that he knows it really is Carey, but -- he remembers. Remembers in more detail than is really appropriate for a teammate and friend's leaked dick pic.)

*

It's all over twitter and the blogs and sports radio the next day, a combination of stupid, snotty jokes and self-righteous outrage. 

They lose to the Caps at home, and even though it's not Carey's fault, even though none of the reporters have the balls to straight up ask him about it, all the post-game questions are about "off-ice distractions."

Malcom sends him a link to Don Cherry's latest incoherent rant about flashy, undisciplined players blah blah blah moral fiber. PK turns it off before he puts his fist through something.

He's _pissed_. And sure, in the morning this will seem like a terrible idea, but now it seems totally reasonable. It's not even an impulse thing, because he has to deliberately set up a burner email account, find Deadspin's info on how to send them anonymous tips, and then go through his phone to find the right picture (he's not going to send them a _bad_ picture, he's got standards, and he knows better than to include his face).

All so he can anonymously send Deadspin an email saying, _All this fuss about Price's dick is missing the bigger story,_ along with a dick pic.

(Then he turns off all his notifications and sends his mom an email saying, _Sorry, I had to, it's for Carey._ )

*

_Anonymous source claims PK Subban's dick is bigger than Price's_ , Deadspin says. _You be the judge._

PK doesn't check any other sites. He didn't want to know that badly. Carey doesn't come to the optional morning skate, but Gally and Chucky corner PK in the lounge before management gets to him.

"You leaked your own dick pic, didn't you?" Alex says.

"I don't know what you're talking about," PK says.

"How exactly did you do it?" Brendan asks.

PK blinks. "What?"

'We know you did it to take the heat off Pricey," Brendan says. "We want to help, too."

PK winces. "Guys--"

"If you don't tell us, we'll do it anyway," Alex says. The tips of his ears are red and he's scowling, but he looks like he means it.

PK sighs and gives in.

It's up on Deadspin a couple of hours later. Neither of their faces are visible. Brendan's pic looks like every other terrible white boy sexting pic. Alex's is a little better, and PK wonders if Alex took his advice and got one off the internet.

But it's not just Brendan and Alex. There are pictures of what are supposedly Larry and Max, too. Over the rest of the afternoon, Dustin, Alexei, Jacob, and Devante get added to the list.

Parros sends one in that PK thinks (hopes) is from '70s porn. There's one of _Stephane_. (PK clicks through with one hand over his eyes, peeking out through his fingers; it's actually very tasteful.) Maripier tweets a picture of Brandon in Habs red boxer briefs, the bulge of his cock visible under the snug fabric. (Brandon favorites the tweet.)

Deadspin updates the post to say the whole thing is probably an elaborate joke, but they still add Nate and Dale's pics.

PK watches the whole ridiculous trainwreck unfold, torn between hysterical laughter and a queasy, guilty sense of responsibility. 

PK sidles up to Carey while he's getting dressed for the game. "Hey, have you been on Deadspin today?" he asks. "Or, uh, twitter?"

"No," Carey says.

"Okay, good," PK says.

Carey freezes. "Why?"

"Nothing! No reason, everything's fine," PK says. Completely believably.

Before Carey can go for his phone, Therrien comes in and calls the room to order.

The game is not pretty. Carey lets in three goals in five minutes in the first period, and there's nothing PK can do, watching from the press box. It's just a meaningless pre-season game between teams that are half prospects and guys on PTOs, but it's still not fun to watch.

PK gets through the post-game interviews with a huge fake smile and nothing but bland platitudes about teamwork and supporting each other and just being happy to be back on the ice.

He's thinking maybe it won't be so bad when someone asks Therrien, "All of the guys you look to as leaders on the team had pictures leak -- does this mean there's a problem with leadership in the room?"

Carey's head snaps up. Therrien looks like he just bit into something sour and rank. PK feels his shoulders tense up as he braces himself for the answer. (Even as he's vaguely wondering if that means he missed Markov's pic.)

"I think there is a problem with journalism in the room," Therrien says, and PK's mouth drops open. He shuts it quickly -- don't want to look surprised that your coach is supporting you -- and Therrien keeps going. "You are treating a harmless joke and an invasion of privacy as though they are assault or harassment or a bad work ethic. It is prudish sensationalism. Next question."

PK shakes his head a little and glances at Carey. Carey is looking right back at him, sharp and questioning.

The reporters shuffle and cough and there is a rote question about who looked good tonight. That's pretty much it for the press; they have to leave for Toronto anyway.

On the bus to the airport, PK can see Carey scrolling through his phone. Every time he looks back, Carey's eyebrows have climbed higher.

Carey knocks on his hotel room door as soon as they check in. "I can't believe you got the whole team to send Deadspin dick pics," he says.

"I didn't!" PK says. "I just sent mine, and then everyone else, um..."

"Followed your lead?" 

PK shrugs.

"You've always led by example," Carey says, drily.

"I told you, we've got your back. This team would do anything for you." PK makes a face. "Although I didn't really expect something like this."

Carey laughs. He's smiling, easy and open again, and it's good to see. But there's something soft and warm in it that makes PK's stomach flutter strangely.

"Thank you," Carey says.

"Anytime," he says, and means it.

Carey's still watching him, still smiling. "It was a good picture," he says.

"What?"

Carey steps in close to say, "Your dick pic was really hot."

"Thanks," PK says blankly. He swallows. "Um. You should see it in real life."

He didn't think it was possible, but Carey's grin gets wider, brighter. "Okay," he says, and slides his fingers under the hem of PK's shirt, hot against his skin.

Holy fuck. "Okay," PK says, and kisses Carey's amazing smile.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Without Access, Favor, or Discretion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726984) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)




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